Through it Denbigh could see but a very small portion of the next cabin, but sufficient to observe O'Hara lying on his back in his bunk. He was writhing and groaning. His eyes were wide open and rolling in a horrifying manner. Outside all was quiet once more. "I say, old man," whispered Denbigh. "What's wrong?" At the sound of his voice O'Hara raised himself. He tried to speak, but could not. With an effort he rolled out of his bunk and stood clinging to the edge for support. "Open the door," said Denbigh peremptorily. "I cannot get in." "If he's not able to it's the last straw," he soliloquized. "I'll have to give myself up and get assistance." With a great effort the Irishman lurched across the floor and removed the chair which had been wedged against the lock. Then, unable to regain his bunk, he pitched inertly upon his face. Denbigh waited no longer. He darted into the alley-way, not even waiting to see if everything were clear. The door opened easily. He entered, and lifting O'Hara as easily as a child placed him on his bunk. "Felt jolly rotten almost as soon as you cleared out," muttered the Irishman. "Sorry, but I couldn't help it." "I don't suppose you could," replied Denbigh, for O'Hara's regret was genuine. "I'll ring for assistance." He touched the electric bell. Then, and only then, he remembered that he had to replace a portion of the lock. Grasping the screw-driver he set to work, and had just driven home the last screw when the locked turned, and a petty officer entered. The man hurried off for the ship's surgeon. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before the doctor arrived. He came prepared to deal with a trifling case, but when he saw the Irishman he looked grave. Without expressing his opinion the surgeon went out. Nor did he again put in an appearance. He sent, however, some quinine and written directions as to treatment. For the rest of the night Denbigh sat up with his comrade. As day broke O'Hara seemed easier. The internal pains passed off. His temperature fell. He was able to talk rationally. By noon he was practically well again. The attack had been sharp and rapid, but once over it seemed to leave no ill-effects. Without being sighted by any of the British patrol vessels the _Pelikan_ and her prize arrived off the entrance to the Mohoro River. Here the two ships slowed down until there was sufficient water for them to cross the outer bar. During the interval Denbigh and O'Hara were peremptorily ordered to leave the _Pelikan_ and take up their quarters on the _Myra_, the reason being that von Riesser was terribly afraid of illness, and in spite of the doctor's assurances he had a firm belief that O'Hara was suffering from yellow fever, malaria, black-water fever, and every tropical disease under the sun. "Let him jolly well think so," said the Irishman joyfully. "I feel as fit as a fiddle now; and I'm not sorry for the change."